50 First Dates
by Blue Willow
Summary: Blaine meets a new guy at the local Lima Bean and is immediately smitten.  The only problem?  Kurt forgets who he is.  Every. Single. Day.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own 50 First Dates or Glee.

Chapter One: Prologue-

_"Good morning, Kurt. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay..."_

Clark woke up early for school to find one of his fathers, Blaine, up and about, making breakfast for the rest of the family.

"Hey, Dad," Clark said, grabbing a plate off the counter and spooning scrambled eggs straight out of the pan. "Aunt Theresa not up yet?"

Blaine gave him a fond look and slapped his hand away. "She stayed the night at a friend's. Kurt should be up soon. Have a seat."

Clark glanced nervously at the darkened hallway where his parents bedroom was located. "It's kind of late, isn't it?"

"Hmm. He'll be fine. Probably just tired from the trip back."

Clark sighed. This trip had been hell, even with Theresa's help. His other father had...special needs...that made travelling rather difficult. It's why Blaine had hired his 'Aunt' Theresa when he was a baby.

The doorbell suddenly rang, causing them both to jump.

"Sorry," Clark said. "Ean said he'd stop by before school. He had a date with Sheree last night."

He gave his father a quick grin and hurried from the table. He and Ean had been friends since second grade, ever since the Hummel-Andersons had moved to New York to get Blaine's fledgling music career off the ground. The two boys had been near inseperatable over the years, barring a few spats.

Ean gave him a quick once over at the door. "How're you doing?" he asked as he stepped through the door.

Clark shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Funerals suck, though." Especially when it was for someone as awesome as his Grandpa Burt had been.

"How's your _Dad_ doing?"

He didn't even have to ask which man Ean was wondering about.

"Same as always." Clark rounded on his friend. "Look, you can't tell him about Grandpa, okay? Not a word."

Ean threw up his hands. "No, man, of course not."

Blaine greeted Ean cheerfully when they came back into the kitchen. The table was already set for four and food set in the middle of the table.

"Have a seat, Ean." Blaine gestured at one of the chairs.

The food was almost gone, a full plate left covered to keep it warm, when a door nearby creeked open. They all froze and turned towards it, waiting for the slim figure to slowly inch its way out into the hallway.

They could see him coming, his head perched curiously to one side as he walked. Blaine stood when Kurt stopped at the kitchen entranceway to stare at them.

"Good morning, Kurt," he said.

Clark waved. "Hi, Dad."

He couldn't help but grin at the way Kurt's eyes widened, even though it happened every morning without fail. He smothered a laugh when his father eyed Ean speculatively.

"Mr. H," Ean said. He waved a fork in hello.

Kurt's shoulders relaxed a bit. He even let Blaine kiss him on the cheek and sit him at the table. Aunt Therese would have scoffed at how careful he was being, but Kurt's actions weren't always predictable.

What a lot of people didn't realize was that while the days might never change for him, his emotions did, sometimes sharply diving in one direction or the other. It was his memories that were stagnant, not Kurt himself.

Yesterday, he'd been curious about the world he'd missed. There were some things they had all glossed over, of course: Grandpa Burt's death (except the day of the funeral, which, yeah, the reaction to that had been _horrible), _Aunt Rachel's miscarriage, Uncle David's car accident, among them.

Today, he was timid and darting. He sat at the table, impeccably dressed as always, and took a deep, steadying breath. Clark shifted uncomfortably at the look. He hated when his dad cried and those were definite tears at the corners of his eyes, though he blushed red at every concerned look Blaine threw his way.

"We should probably get going," Ean said, looking around at the others.

Clark nodded. "Yeah. Big day today."

He gave both fathers pecks on the cheek before heading for the door. A quick look back showed Kurt staring down at his aging hands, sniffing miserably, while Blaine whispered in his ear.

"C'mon, man."

Ean tugged on his arm and pulled him out the door.

x

The keyboard was set up where they'd left it before leaving for Lima, sheet music sitting on top of it and waiting. He and Kurt had been working on a song when they'd gotten the call about Burt. Any progress they'd made on it had been lost since then, of course, but they could start again today, so long as they finished it before bedtime.

Kurt had woken up in a funk. He didn't remember his dad dying. That wasn't why he was so down. It was his body, no doubt still tired from the trip and helping to throw him further off balance. In a few days, he'd be better able to cope.

Now, though, he followed after Blaine shyly, a blush coloring his cheeks red. It reminded Blaine of when they'd first met. Kurt hadn't changed since then, couldn't change, so every day it was like he was still a teenager, frozen in time while everyone else moved on around him.

"Are you sure I can't call home?" Kurt asked nervously, hands twitching at his sides.

"Well," Blaine said. "Carole's probably still asleep. You don't want to wake her up, do you?"

Kurt hesitated, his eyes searching Blaine's face. Finally, he nodded, then glanced at the camera Blaine fiddled with.

Blaine smiled at him apologetically. "We try to record everything. For your videos." And for Blaine's sake, as well.

Kurt nodded and slowly approached the keyboard, sitting down on the bench and fingering the music in front of him. "What's this?"

"We were working on it whe-I thought you'd like to do some singing today."

Kurt frowned. "But I don't know the song."

Blaine sat down beside him and set the music up. It was a song from one of his more recent musicals.

"We can work on it together."

Kurt bit his lip but nodded, blushing again, when Blaine reached over to squeeze his hand.

He put his hands on the keyboards to play the first notes. After a moment's listening, Kurt opened his mouth and began to sing along.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: I have no idea if corsets were featured in the _Vogue_ issue mentioned below.

Chapter Two-

Blaine Anderson first met Kurt Hummel in a little coffee shop called The Lima Bean. It was the weekend and the place was crowded. He almost gave up ever finding a place to sit until he saw an empty seat across from a rather pale looking guy his own age.

He managed to shoulder his way to the small table and, shifting his school nervously on his shoulder, said, "Hi. Mind if I sit?"

The boy nearly choked on his coffee at the sound of Blaine's voice, but finally he nodded and gestured at the empty seat. "Be my guest," he said a little breathlessly.

Blaine dropped his bag beside the chair as he sat. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt."

They shook hands, Blaine taking note of the softness of the other boy's skin. Kurt still had a gobsmacked look on his face, as if he were shocked to see someone sitting with him. Maybe he was, Blaine thought, remembering his own days of being an outcast before Dalton Academy.

"So, who do you think's going to win the game?" Blaine asked.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not really into sports."

"Oh. Well, I'm a Buckeyes fan myself." He faltered at the glazed look that came over Kurt's face. "Right. Not a football fan. Sorry. So." He took a sip of his coffee. "What do you like?"

It was a stupid question, he knew, but the boy across from him didn't seem to mind the lame conversation starter. He even blushed a bit before he started, though he hesitated getting the first words out, like he thought _he_ was the one being an idiot.

Blaine would have reached out to take his hand-just as a reassuring gesture, mind you-but he didn't want to come on too strong.

"I sing in the school's Glee Club." Kurt gave a short laugh. "I know, kind of lame, but my voice is what's getting me out of Lima, so..."

Blaine smiled at him. "I sing, too. I'm one of the Warblers at Dalton Academy." He had no idea what caused him to blurt out, "I'm their lead soloist, actually."

Kurt's eyebrow rose. "Oh, the star of the show, then. How impressive."

A warmth flooded Blaine's body, causing him to look away. He had to clear his throat before turning back to the other boy. There was a moment of silence as Kurt eyed him curiously. His hands fiddled with the magazine in front of him. Blaine caught sight of the title and leapt at the conversation starter this provided.

"I love _Vogue," _he said, leaning forward as if making a confession.

Kurt smiled and tipped his chin upwards. "I have every issue of the past five years catalogued at home. I even managed to snag a copy of Kate Moss's March 1993 cover off eBay."

"An excellent choice," Blaine said. "Wasn't there a spread on corsets in that issue? I'm pretty sure I remember a black one with these really long red ribbons..."

Kurt clasped his hands together, almost hopping in his seat in sudden excitement. "Yes! The Belle Rose. It gave the model a sixteen inch waist. Not to mention, was an absolutely stunning piece of work."

"Was it really sixteen?" Blaine winced as he thought back on that poor model's unnaturally tiny midsection. "That sounds painful."

"Please. You haven't felt painful until you've walked around in custom made Lady Gaga pumps."

Blaine chuckled and opened his mouth to answer but a heavy body smack against their table. Blaine managed to grab his coffee before it spilt but Kurt's toppled over and started to sink into the pages of his magazine before he could stop it.

"Hey, lady," a black guy in a football jersey sung out. "Know what day it is?"

The other jocks clustered around him laughed unpleasantly. Kurt merely stared at them, his lips pressed tight together. His eyes flickered towards one of the guys hovering near the back. He was the only one not laughing. Once he caught Kurt's eyes on him, he quickly looked away and shifted uncomfortably.

Blaine wanted to step up and say something, he really did, but he just...couldn't. It was like middle school all over again. Even the laughter sounded the same. He just sat there, useless, while Kurt's main bully started making cruel comments about his lovely outfit. Really, that bowtie was just adorable.

This might have gone on forever if a loud, strident voice hadn't called from across the room, "Oh, no, you aren't. What is _wrong_ with you guys?"

A big girl in a Lima Bean apron hurried towards the table, anger clouding her dark features. Blaine let out a soft sigh of relief and felt ashamed of himself for it.

"Azimio, lay off my boy."

The jerk-Azimio, Blaine presumed-smirked. "What are you going to do about it, Aretha? Pour me a coffee?"

There was another round of chuckling and macho posture. Aretha folded her arms imperiously.

"I'll call Coach Sylvester."

At the mere mention of the name, the group froze.

"That's cold," Azimio said, shaking his head. He pushed against the table once more. It screeched as it moved.

"Thanks, Mercedes," Kurt said. He suddenly straightened and eyed the girl's outfit. "Why didn't you tell me you were working here?"

Mercedes (or was it Aretha?) bent down to pat Kurt on the shoulder and peck his cheek. "I have my eye on a new hat down at the mall."

Kurt's eyes lit up. "Ooh, do tell." He still seemed a little shaken but Mercedes didn't seem to notice, just started talking about some pink baseball cap that Kurt shuddered over.

Blaine watched them for another minute or two before finally standing up to say, "I should probably go."

Kurt reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. That was horribly rude of me. Mercedes, this is Blaine. He likes _Vogue._"

When Mercedes turned to look at him, Blaine had to resist the urge to squirm. Her eyes raked over him in judgment.

"Mercedes," Kurt prompted.

She shook herself of whatever plagued her and smiled. "Sorry. Nice to meet you."

Her hand gripped Blaine's tightly when they shook. He just managed to keep the wince off his face, shaking his hand loosely under the table to get the blood flowing again.

"...go," Kurt was saying with a sigh. "I have so much homework to finish."

Why would he have homework in July? Did he go to summer school?

Blaine stood. "I'll walk you to the door."

The damage to the magazine wasn't too bad. The edges were damp and Kurt had to wrap the whole thing in a towel Mercedes took from behind the counter, just so none of the other papers in Kurt's messenger bag wouldn't get wet. Blaine waited patiently for him to finish.

"I have a friend coming to pick me up," Kurt said when they stopped at the door.

"Oh." Blaine's heart sank.

"He's like a brother," Kurt hastened to add. "His mom is dating my dad. I think they're going to get married soon."

"That's great! Er, I mean, for your dad. It must be nice to have someone to love like that."

Kurt's breath caught, and he looked away, worrying at his bottom lip. That strange silence settled over them once more.

Blaine chuckled, opened his mouth to speak, and was once again interrupted, this time by a really tall guy across the street waving a McDonald's bag in the air as he called Kurt's name.

"Ugh." Kurt's upper lip curled. "That is just a heart attack waiting to happen."

"Your brother?"

"Finn. I-I should go. Don't want to keep him waiting."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you, Kurt."

"Likewise."

Kurt's hand was soft in Blaine's hand, the tip of his fingers brushing against Blaine's wrist.

Blaine swallowed. "You want to meet up for coffee tomorrow?"

A tentative date was set up, and then Kurt was striding off across the road. He turned once to look back, then hurried to that Finn guy, who slapped him on the back. They started off down the street together.

Blaine watched them until they disappeared around a corner. He turned around, intending to go back inside to get a biscotti, but Mercedes was staring at him through the glass. She pointed at him, to her eyes, then back to him.

The message was clear. _I'm watching you._

Blaine gulped. Maybe he didn't want that biscotti, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three-

Kurt was sitting at the same table the next morning, a fresh magazine in front of him. Blaine took a moment to stop and stare, before a slow grin grew on his face. He was about to have a date! A real live date, this time. It wasn't all in his head. True, Jeremiah had let him down easy after their disastrous fifth 'date', when Blaine had tried to kiss him, but it was still humiliating to think about.

Shaking off the memory of Jeremiah's last, patronizing words, Blaine strode forward and sat at the table.

"Hey!"

Kurt looked at him, mouth hanging open as if surprised to see him.

"Guess what?" Blaine continued jokingly. "I'm wearing a corset."

Kurt's mouth tightened into a frown and he closed the magazine with a snap. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, because we were talking about-"

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I have a closet full of fetish gear."

"But, I-"

"Okay, yeah, I wore one corset." Kurt stood, grabbing his bag off the floor, leaving Blaine to gape at him in confusion. "Just because you Neanderthals have no sense of fashion..."

"Wait!" Blaine stood, ignoring the stares of the other customers, and latched on to Kurt's arm. "I don't get it."

Kurt yanked his arm away. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine noted Mercedes hurrying towards them.

"What's not to get?" Kurt sneered. "I am not a joke."

"I didn't say that!" Blaine could feel himself getting angry in spite of himself.

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked once she reached them.

Kurt heaved a sigh of relief. "Mercedes. Thank god _someone_ here gets me." He paused, eyeing her outfit. "When did you start working here?"

Wait a minute...what? Blaine looked to Mercedes for help, so confused his head was starting to hurt. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Mercedes grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the table, Kurt watching the two of them warily, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't know what your game is," she said, "but you've gotta step away from my boy."

"I don't have a game," Blaine protested. "We were supposed to meet here-he agreed to it!"

Mercedes face softened then. "Oh. Well. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Kurt has no idea who you are. Head injury, you know? They do freaky things to a person."

"Head injury?" Blaine glanced back to where Kurt still stood watching them.

"Yeah," Mercedes said. "He and his dad were in a car wreck last year. Kurt was in a coma for about a month and when he woke up...well, he thought it was the day of the accident, before the wreck."

"But you said that happened last year."

"Head injuries are funny things. He thinks it's the day of the accident every day he wakes up."

Blaine gaped at her. "But...we had a date."

Mercedes looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry, but he doesn't remember you. At all. You might as well give up now."

Blaine looked back to Kurt, his heart twisting painfully in his chest as the remembered glow of their first meeting. It had went so well, too. He couldn't give up this chance. He just couldn't.

"What am I going to do?" Blaine moaned, flopping back on his bed at Dalton later that day.

Wes looked up from his algebra book and raised an eyebrow. "You could just leave the guy alone."

"You are so unromantic. I don't know how your girlfriend puts up with you."

"At least I have a girlfriend."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I really want me one of those."

Wes finally turned from his book, twisting in his seat to face his friend. "Look, Blaine, I can tell you like the guy, you've made that abundantly clear. Why don't you just seduce him, sleep with him, and leave it at that? He'll never remember you anyway."

"That's horrible." Blaine stared at Wes, aghast. "He's _brain damaged."_

"Fine. You go do your thing. Woo him with coffee or whatever, just leave me out of this. I have to study, you know. Finals are coming up."

Finals. Right. Blaine flopped back onto the bed with another moan. He hadn't even started to study yet. His parents would flip if he came even close to failing his senior year. With a sigh, Blaine grabbed his book and tried to concentrate on the page in front of him.

x

Nothing worked. No matter how hard he tried, Blaine couldn't get Kurt out of his head. They had to see each other again.

But the first time he tried to walk back through the cafe doors, Mercedes blocked his way, arms crossed over her chest and feet planted firmly on the ground like she expected him to push past her. If Blaine had been one of those jerks from the other day, he might have, but his parents had taught him better than that.

Instead, he put on his most charming smile. "Good morning, Mercedes."

"Can it, prep school," Mercedes snapped back. "What are you doing back here?"

Blaine glanced inside to where Kurt was sitting.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not trying to get with my boy."

"W-what! No...okay, yeah, but-"

"It's not like he'd ever go out with you anyway."

"He wanted to the last time we met."

"A fluke."

"Not really, no."

Mercedes threw Kurt a fond glance. "I bet you twenty dollars that you can't get another date with him."

"You'd bet on your brain-damaged friend's love life?"

"I need a hat. Kurt would approve of my sacrifice for fashion."

"Okay." If this was what it took to get near Kurt again. "You're on."

Mercedes stepped out of the way. "You are so going to get shot down."

Taking a deep breath, Blaine headed towards Kurt's table.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four-

"Hey." Blaine sat across the table in the seat he was beginning to think of as his own. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I love corsets, too."

"Excuse me?" Kurt looked at Blaine with an eyebrow raised. Then he frowned. "Do always just take someone's chair without asking?"

"Uh, I'm sorry. Is this chair taken?"

"Yes." Kurt set his messenger bag on the chair, nudging Blaine up with it. His eyes snapped back to the magazine in front of him.

Blaine shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He could hear Mercedes laughing at him from behind the counter.

Strike 1.

x

"Hey, do you mind if I sit?" Blaine asked, gesturing at the chair he'd taken the first time he and Kurt had met.

Kurt stared at him, clearly flustered. The words that came out of his mouth, though, were French and meant to drive Blaine away. He sighed and headed for the door.

Mercedes laughed at him again, but this time she had a friend with her, a big guy with a mohawk for a hairdo. He grinned at Blaine, a wolf's smile, causing Blaine to tally up the bet in his head so far.

Mercedes and her new friend: 2

Blaine: 0

x

The third visit, he was feeling pretty pathetic, just sitting at the counter and stealing glances at Kurt's back. This wasn't even about the money. They'd already hit it off once, so he knew Kurt liked him.

Well, desperate time called for desperate measures. Blaine did something he hadn't done since he was eight years old and lost his favorite bowtie-he cried like a baby. Clutching his menu, he made sure to turn in Kurt's direction as he sobbed.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Kurt asked, standing up and crossing the short space to Blaine's table.

"No," Blaine sniffed. He felt so stupid. "I can't read the menu."

"Oh. Did you forget your glasses?"

"I can't read," Blaine sobbed again.

Kurt made placating gestures and took the menu from his hands. "No, no, don't cry. I'll help you."

He sat down next to Blaine and together they went through the menu, Kurt pointing out certain words while Blaine slowly sounded them out. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Thanks," Blaine said after they'd eaten the food they'd so painstakingly ordered.

Kurt glanced at his watch and suddenly stood up. "Oh! I have to go. Finn's supposed to come pick me up."

Blaine hesitated, swallowed, then asked, "Do you think I could have your number? We should keep in touch."

Kurt's smile was soft and pleased, and it crinkled up his eyes in the most adorable way. "Of course. Do you have a pen?"

Ha!

Mercedes: 2

Blaine:1

x

On his fourth day, he got dragged out of the shop by a giant of a man. Or a boy. Blaine wasn't sure which, but they were definitely around the same age, so he supposed it didn't matter.

"Stay away from my brother. He can't remember you, anyway."

"Oh!" Blaine had been so preoccupied with Kurt, he'd forgotten about the brother. "Sorry. Finn, right?"

The big guy blinked down at him. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Kurt told me." Blaine looked back through the window to where Kurt sat engrossed in his Vogue magazine. "Does anyone ever tell him what day it is?"

"No. And neither are you. Just leave him alone, okay?"

Blaine held up his hands in surrender. "I won't bother him here again."

Finn leaned back inside and shouted for Kurt, who came to them looking disgruntled.

"You didn't have to yell, Finn. The table's not that far away."

"We're leaving."

"I haven't even gotten my coffee yet!" He squawked when Finn grabbed his arm, barely even glancing in Blaine's direction as he was pulled away.

Mercedes clapped Blaine on the shoulder, making him jump. "Sorry. Love's rough." She held out the money Blaine had given her. "The hat wasn't that special, anyway."

Blaine took the money from her and tucked it into his blazer. He felt a little guilty, though, because he was going to do exactly what he told Finn-not bother Kurt at the coffee shop. He hadn't said anything about the rest of the day.

x

He was a creep, that's all there was to it. It took one week of snooping and stalking for Blaine to find an opening in Kurt's very exact schedule. The only time he didn't seem to either be at the coffee shop or with his family was when his parents left for work and Finn for school. He had the time in between, a few hours at most, before Carole Hummel came home. Blaine couldn't be there when she did.

So, now he had to figure out how to work this. Blaine could have just committed to acting out the same scenario every day, but not only was it boring for him, he also loved seeing all the different reactions Kurt offered-from Cable Guy Blaine to Lost Hiker Blaine, Kurt, after a bit of witty banter, always let him in. And always let him know that his cell phone had 911 on speed dial.

It was all going so well, Blaine forgot to be careful and started to lose track of the time he was spending at the Hummel house. One day, the door opened and Mr. Hummel frowned out at him. He eyed Blaine's sunglasses and cane, then shook his head.

"You finish with whatever game you're playing, then come talk with me in the kitchen. I'm guessing you already know the way."

Blaine swallowed. "Yes, sir."


End file.
